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by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Frottage, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Reunion Sex, infos on the note, part of a RP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: Part of a RP on tumblr that follows (quick summary): Sherlock and John are together before the Fall and have adopted a son together. Sherlock comes back and they go to a hotel to talk about what's next for them now. This is their reunion scene.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the RP here : [Sherlock](http://ws-scott-h.tumblr.com/) & [John](http://jhwatsonmd.tumblr.com/). Thank you to [johnnlocked](http://johnnlocked.tumblr.com/) for doing this RP with me and allowing me to write this part <3
> 
> In more details, in this RP, Sherlock is a hooker and John pays him when he comes back from the war. John has decided to kill himself and wants to enjoy one last night with someone else. They fall in love and save each other. They adopt their son, Aaron, during a case, children are being kidnapped and they save this little boy. After the Fall, John meets Mary and they get together even if Aaron doesn't trust her at first. During his time away, Sherlock continues to talk to John and Aaron through their blogs under the name John Baker.
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> Pauline

**\- John -**

 

John snapped a picture of the hotel, sighing and starting to doubt this was a good idea after all. When Sherlock had first mentioned going back here, John had been to surprised to realise what it implied. How could he go back there, rent a room and not remember the first time he had pushed open one of these hotel’s doors. It was all engraved in his memory, the red wallpaper, the fresh scent of shampoo, and Sherlock, _god_ , Sherlock. He could still see him, pale and breathtakingly beautiful on that bed. John had fallen in love that first night,  he had stopped denying it a long time ago now, and now he was supposed to go back and decided whether he wanted Sherlock back into his life or not.

“Fuck,” he cursed, closing his eyes and trying to regulate his pounding heart rate. Sherlock was silent, had been ever since they had left the hospital, and John wanted nothing more but to shake him alive, to force him to say something, anything. God, John wanted to kiss him. “Fuck.”

A car passing in the street brought him back to reality and John looked back at Sherlock’s figure, waiting for him by the hotel’s doors. Once again John couldn’t help but notice how thin, how pale he looked, and the knot in his chest tightened. He clenched his hands by his sides, remembering the scars marking the skin of Sherlock’s back, and a wave of anger rushed over him.

“John,” Sherlock called, almost too quietly.

“Yes,” he replied, shaking his head and walking past him, “Let’s go.”

The lobby was empty at this hour, and John went directly for the reception, Sherlock following silently behind him. He took the first room they offered, not caring at all about the bed or extras. He just wanted to get this over with, quickly. They got a room on the second floor, and for a moment, John thought the tension was going to explode inside the silent elevator. Ironic how John used to love their silence, warm and intimate. Nothing like this one.

“We’re here,” Sherlock said suddenly and John realised the doors were open.

He glanced at him, his breath getting caught in his lungs as he crossed Sherlock’s eyes. The urge to hold him, to make the sadness there go away, overwhelmed him, and John forced himself to look away. He quickly went to their room, opening the door without a words and inhaling deeply before getting inside. He refused to look at the bed, going to the bathroom and pouring himself a glass of water. Christ, he already wanted something stronger and they hadn’t even start to talk.

“John,” Sherlock called from the room, “If you don’t want to-”

“No,” John cut him, “We’re here now.” He put the glass down and went back to the room. Sherlock was sitting on one of the chair, looking at him, and John went to sit in front of him. “You’re right, we need to talk this through before it gets any worse.”

Sherlock stared at him, “Worse?”

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “Yes, Sherlock, worse.”

They remained silent, Sherlock looking down at his hands, and John knew he understood. Worse. Going separate ways. See each other only for Aaron. Cut short any chance of ever be happy again. Worse.

“I don’t want worse,” Sherlock said, his voice barely a whisper.

“It isn’t about what we want anymore, Sherlock,” John sighed, hating the way Sherlock’s entire body seemed to shiver at the words. “It’s about what we need, the both of us.”

Sherlock looked back up at him, his eyes almost daring him to say something as he replied, “I know what I need, John.”

John swallowed with difficulty, the need for a drink getting even stronger, “I don’t, not anymore. You took away what I needed when you jumped off that roof.”

Sherlock stood up abruptly, pacing in the room, hands clenched into fist, “I told you I was sorry,” he breathed out, “You told me you understood, John.”

“Fuck, Sherlock, I understand why you did it,” John replied, feeling his own anger build up. “But I don’t understand the way you did it!”

“I understand you’re angry, but this is ridiculous, John,” Sherlock asserted, turning to face him. “You pull me in and push me away with the same hand!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” John replied, getting to his feet too. “You’re not the one who had to explain to our son why his father has jumped off a building for no bloody reason! Do you have any idea what he went through? Did you even thought about h-”

“That’s exactly what I did, John,” Sherlock cut him, taking a step closer, “I thought about him, I thought about you, that’s all I could think of the entire time Moriarty’s threatened to kill both of you!”

John let out a frustrated groan, “One word, Sherlock! That’s all I would have needed! One fucking word to let me know you were alive!”

“I couldn’t sa-” Sherlock started but John hit the wall with his fist, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Do you know what I thought all this time?” He asked, his voice low and almost breathless. “Every time I closed my eyes, every time I looked at Aaron, at our empty bed?” John looked back at him, unable to stop himself anymore. “I thought I hadn’t love you enough, I thought I bored you, I thought drove you to kill yourself. For two bloody years I convinced myself that it was all my fault, that I should have tried harder, love you more, give you a fucking reason to stay!”

“John, it was never your fa-”

“Don’t,” John cut him. “Don’t say that.”

Sherlock shook his head, taking another step toward him, “No. I’m going to say it, and you’re going to listen to me, John. It was never your fault. You are the only reason I’m here today. I thought about you every single day, thought about going to bed next to you, thought about kissing you, thought about listening to you reading a book to our son, thought about making love to you, every single bloody day, and that’s the reason I am still alive today.”

John licked his lips, staring up at Sherlock’s eyes and feeling his breath against his face. They were too close, too close.

“I spend two years making sure you and Aaron would be safe,” Sherlock continued, all the anger gone from his voice now. “I tried to ensure us a future, to give us the chance to properly live, without fear, without the constant threat of Moriarty taking away either of us.” He stopped, letting out a deep sight. “John, please, you have to understand, you have to believe me.”

John remained silent for long seconds before breathing out a weak, “I need a drink,” stepping away and walking out of the room without another word.

 

**\- Sherlock -**

 

Sherlock watched as John left the room, forcing himself not to follow, and went to sit back instead. This wasn’t going as he expected. He had thought going back to the Astor Court would help, that it would bring back memories and make things just a little easier for the both of them, but John seemed even angrier now than at the hospital. Closing his eyes, Sherlock found himself wondering whether he could even repair the damage he had caused at all. Aaron was still processing his return but soon, he would realise what he had done, and he would get angry too. John was right, he had abandoned them, had made them think he was dead. How could they ever forgave him?

_What have I done?_

He leant back against his chair, wincing at the pain his scars still caused, and forced himself to breath out slowly. He was going to fix it. There was no other way. He couldn’t let them go, let them slip away. He hadn’t spend two years fighting to get his life back and not try. This wasn’t an option. Not an option. Not a- _What if John doesn’t come back_?

Sherlock was up to his feet and at the door in less than a second, his hand on the handle, but he stopped. No. This would only make John angrier. He was going to come back. He just needed a moment to himself, just needed a moment. That’s all. That’s all.

“He’s coming back,” Sherlock whispered, trying to control his breathing. “He’s coming back.”

He let go of the door handle and let himself fall to the floor, sitting down with his back against the wall. It would take John approximately two minutes to get to the bar, one more to order a drink and another five to six minutes to finish his drink. Sherlock just had to wait for him. Closing his eyes again, Sherlock thought about Aaron in his hospital bed, smiling up at him with teary eyes and shivering voice. Even in pain, Aaron had always kept his smile. Sherlock thought back of the time he had stayed by Aaron’s hospital bed, a time when he wasn’t yet their son, a time when they had a lifetime of opportunities before them.

Sherlock let out a deep sigh. How could have let him get hurt again? It all felt as if the past two years had served for nothing. He had tried, had killed and tortured to protect his family, and they were still getting hurt. He had failed them, over and ov-

Sherlock jumped with surprise as the door opened, John searching the room, and Sherlock hurried to get up again. John’s eyes found his, neither of them saying anything, and he closed the door silently. Sherlock was afraid to move, afraid to say anything that might trigger John’s anger again. He desperately needed to make thing better, and he had no idea how to do it.

“I’m sorry,” John whispered, startling him.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Sherlock replied carefully.

John sighed, leaning back against the door, “You have to understand, Sherlock,” he began, “I had build a new life, I had started to accept your death, and it turned out to be one giant lie after all.”

Sherlock nodded, looking away. “I’m sorry about Mary,” he replied, “If I had known, I would have said something.”

John let out a nervous laugh, “How?”

“John Baker,” Sherlock said tentatively, looking back at him just in time to see John close his eyes.

“Right, another lie.”

Sherlock bit his lips, “I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“People tried to tell me, you know,” John said, eyes still closed. ‘’“Think harder, John, who does he remind you of? Think harder!”’’ He laughed, shaking his head. “For a moment I even found myself hoping you could be him.”

“John, I-” Sherlock stopped, not sure what he was trying to say anyway. He waited for John to look back at him, hating the hurt in saw in his eyes. “I couldn’t stay away. Not entirely.”

“I’m glad you did,” John replied after a moment. “You helped Aaron, a lot.”

Sherlock nodded, “He’s so strong.”

John smiled, the first time since they had arrived, “He is, yes. Stronger than me, that’s for certain.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sherlock replied, “You took care of him, when things were falling apart around you, you took care of him. You made sure he was happy, you kept him busy, kept him smiling.”

John remained silent for a long moment, eyes locked with his, and the temptation to touch, to kiss took over Sherlock once again. “I made him move to an assassin’s flat, I put him in danger.”

Sherlock took a tentative step closer, “Mary played you, she played everyone around her. She was a professional killer, John. She would have found a way.”

“Our son got shoot, Sherlock,”John breathed out, “He could have died.”

Sherlock shook his head, “He’s fine, John,” he stepped closer, “He’s going to be fine.” John was only a few inches away now, their eyes still fixed on each other, and if Sherlock reached, he could be touching him. “John,” he began quietly, “If you think you will never be able to forgive me, please tell me and I’ll go away.” He stopped, inhaling deeply. “I’ll always be here for you and Aaron, but I won’t bother you with this anymore.” He heard John’s breath caught, his eyes searching his face. “Just tell me,” Sherlock whispered, close, so very close.

“Oh fuck,” John cursed before he was taking the final step and crashing their mouths together.

Sherlock couldn’t repress a loud gasp, his hands coming to cup John’s face immediately and his lips parting, chasing John’s tongue with his own. He felt John siver, his entire body now pressed against his, and Sherlock backed him up against the door, never breaking their kiss. John’s hands were all over him, so desperate and yet so gentle too, and Sherlock kissed him harder. He let John play with his lips, biting and nipping, taking all the air out of him. _God_ , how Sherlock had missed him.

“John,” Sherlock panted when they parted, both of their breathing ragged and John’s hands now crisped around his shirt. Sherlock searched his eyes, looking for any signs that John was regretting this but found nothing but bare hunger and need. Without another second of hesitation, Sherlock kissed him again.

 

**\- John -**

 

Sherlock tasted just like John remembered, and he couldn’t get enough. He needed more, needed to have Sherlock naked and to be _his,_ needed to never let go of him ever again, to keep his here, warm and brilliant and so very alive. “Oh god, Sherlock,” he moaned, finger pulling at Sherlock’s shirt, desperate for skin. Sherlock was all but panting against his mouth, his own hands tracing over and over the lines of his face, as if he was learning them all by heart again, and John sealed their lips again. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop, would not stop.

He pushed himself away from the wall and walked them both toward the bed, his hands now roaming over Sherlock’s back. He hated the marks he felt there, hated what they meant, what they represented, and for a moment, John found himself hoping he could make them disappear just with his touch. Sherlock fell on the bed, bringing him down with him, his legs already around his waist, and John break the kiss only to trail down his jaw and neck.

“John,” Sherlock moaned, hands now on his back, tugging at his shirt, “Please.”

John kissed his collarbone softly, fighting back the urge to just _take_ and forcing himself to take it slow. Sherlock was hurt and if John hadn’t been able to prevent it, he was at least going to take care of him now. “Shh love,” he whispered, not surprise at all by how natural it felt to fall back into his old habits. “I’m here, I’m here.” He began to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt slowly, kissing each inch of skin revealed tenderly, “I’m here.”

Sherlock let out a broken sound, not quite a moan or a sob, but it made John’s chest tightened. He looked up at him, fingers stopping and his eyes searching Sherlock’s face. They remained like that for long seconds, their chest rising heavily against his each other, before Sherlock slid both hands around his neck, “I missed you so much,” he breathed out, biring John’s face down to kiss him, “So much.”

John poured all of his love into the kiss, the thought of how lucky he was hitting him again. Here he was, about to make love to the man he had thought he had lost forever. “God, Sherlock, I-” he stopped, kissing him again to prevent himself for saying too much, and continued to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt quickly. He pushed himself up enough to let Sherlock remove it, and get rid of his own shirt at the same time. Sherlock’s hands were on him immediately, roaming all over his chest and back as he brought him back down for another kiss.

John wasn’t sure how long they remained like this, kissing frantically while exploring each other body again, but he could have stayed like this for hours and hours. Another thrust of Sherlock’s hips reminded them both of their burning arousal, and John let out a loud moan when their erection brushed together. He rocked against him, the two of them now panting against each other mouth.

“John, I need-” Sherlock whimpered, fingers hooked in John’s belt.

“Yes, fuck yes,” John moaned, never stopping to thrust against him. “You’re so beautiful, feel so good, oh god, Sherlock.”

Sherlock threw his head back and John attacked the offered neck in front of him, kissing and biting and sucking, “John!”

Sherlock was all but tugging at his trousers now, and John took a moment to breath before straightening up, “I’ll need you to let go, love,” he smiled, both hands on Sherlock’s legs still locked around his waist. With a moan, Sherlock released him, raising his hips in a clear invitation and John wasted no time getting rid of his trousers and pants all at once. _Fuck_ , Sherlock was just as breathtaking, and John couldn’t help but leant down for another kiss before standing up and getting rid of his own clothes.

“John, back, now,” Sherlock all but begged, reaching for him, and John fell back on top of him.

Where their movement had been erratic and uncontrolled before, it all felt much tender now. John took his time to settle between Sherlock’s legs again, the both of them moaning inside the kiss as their bare erection rubbed together. John had forgotten how alive he felt in Sherlock’s arms.

“John, John, _John_ ,” Sherlock moaned again and again, starting to rock them together, and John as starting to fear neither of them were going to last very long.

He could already feel heat pool in his abdomen, the feeling of Sherlock’s naked body underneath me making his head spin with desire. They set a pace together, thrusting slowly as they kissed and kissed. John could feel tears ran down Sherlock’s cheeks and he kissed them away, whispering soft words against his skin, unable to stop himself any longer.

“I love you, god, I love you,” he breathed with each thrust, “I’ve missed you, missed you every single day.”

“John,” Sherlock sobbed, legs back around his waist, “I love you, I lov-”

Sherlock let out a loud moan, his entire body arching off the bed as John pressed them closer together, the both of them starting to lose their pace. “Let go, love, I’m here, I’m right here,” John breathed out, kissing over Sherlock’s cheeks and jaw. “I’ve got you.”

“ _John_ ,” Sherlock cried out before going still underneath him, coming.

John lost it entirely, all but thrusting hard against Sherlock and chasing his own orgasm. He kissed Sherlock again, his own cries of pleasure getting lost inside his mouth as he came for what seemed hours and hours. It took him another minute to realised Sherlock was whispering something against his neck, over and over again, and John felt his heart break.

“Please, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave.”

John held him tighter, rolling them both to their side and keeping them pressed together, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered back, kissing Sherlock’s curls, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise, love, I promise.”

John wasn’t going anywhere ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are really appreciated :)
> 
> [I do fic commission now](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-commission)


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